all."
"Ah! my dear," whispered Madame Chambertin to her husband, "what a happy
idea! what a chance!"
"I will seize it!" he replied; and he planted himself in front of
Dubourg, with his feet in the third position.--"Monsieur le baron, if I
wasn't afraid of presuming too far, if you would deign to accept a plain
country gentleman's dinner, Madame Chambertin and I would be overjoyed
to have at our table a distinguished nobleman and a professor of
literature. My cabriolet is waiting for us close by, with Lunel, my
jockey; we shall be at Allevard in an hour, and my cabriolet will take
monsieur le baron to Grenoble this evening."
"Really, Monsieur de Chambertin, you are too kind," replied Dubourg,
with a bow.
"He called me _De_ Chambertin!" said the ex-tradesman to his wife.
"I heard him."
"Do you suppose he means to make me a knight?"
"I believe he's quite capable of making you something."
"I am almost tempted to accept your invitation," said Dubourg; "it will
afford me the pleasure of becoming better acquainted with some most
delightful people.--What do you say, my dear Ménard? Will it make
Montreville anxious? Do you think that we might accept Monsieur de
Chambertin's invitation to dinner?"
"Yes, certainly we may, monsieur le baron," replied Ménard, who was so
excited by the prospect that he took from his pocket the paper napkin in
which the carcass of the chicken was wrapped, and wiped his face with
it, thinking that it was his handkerchief, and oblivious to the fact
that he was besmearing himself with chicken jelly; but Monsieur and
Madame Chambertin were in the seventh heaven and saw nothing of all
that. To take home with them to dinner a great Polish nobleman, a
palatine! who had put a _de_ before monsieur's name, and who made eyes
at madame--that was quite enough to turn their heads.
"The cabriolet will never hold four," said madame.
"Don't be alarmed, my dear; I will take Lunel's pony, and he will ride
behind. Whenever monsieur le baron chooses----"
"Faith! let us go," said Dubourg; and he added in an undertone, as he
offered the lady his hand: "All the ruins in the world could not prevail
against you!"
They left the château, Dubourg with Madame Chambertin on his arm, while
her husband ran ahead, and Ménard followed, trying to discover the
source of the smell of chicken which pursued him everywhere.
At a turn in the path, they discovered the cabriolet, in charge of a
little man of about his master's years, who looked more like a butler
than a jockey; beside him was an animal which, judging from its size and
ears, was halfway between a horse and an ass. Madame Chambertin entered
the carriage with her two guests.
"Give me your nag, Lunel," said Monsieur Chambertin.
"And what am I to do, monsieur?"
"Get up behind the carriage."
"You know very well, monsieur, that I can't hold on there."
"Then you shall walk. The idiot! not to have learned yet to hold on
behind a carriage!"
As he spoke, Monsieur Chambertin mounted the beast, and belabored him
with his cane in default of a crop.
"Excuse me, if I ride ahead," he called to Dubourg; "but I have some
orders to give."
"Oh! no ceremony for us, I beg you, Monsieur de Chambertin!" was the
reply.
But the host was already far away; when he heard himself called _De_
Chambertin again, he took the bit in his teeth.
Dubourg took the reins and drove, which did not prevent him from making
many very gallant speeches to Madame Chambertin en route, or from
motioning to Ménard to wipe his face. Lunel ran behind the cabriolet,
consigning to the devil the strangers who were responsible for his
master's taking his nag.
In due time they arrived at Allevard, a pretty village, through which
flowed a mountain stream of considerable size that furnished power for a
large number of windmills, iron foundries, and factories. Monsieur
Chambertin's estate was on the right, just at the entrance to the
village; it was a beautiful house, built according to modern ideas, and,
as Madame Chambertin said, almost a château.
As they drove into a spacious courtyard shaded by tall lindens, Dubourg
secretly felicitated himself on the chance meeting, and began to think
that Madame Chambertin still possessed a very attractive figure and very
bright eyes. As for Ménard, he had visions of a well-furnished kitchen,
and he concluded that a man who owned such a charming estate deserved
some consideration, although he was neither baron nor palatine.
Madame Chambertin escorted the strangers into a pretty salon on the
ground floor, which looked on a beautiful garden behind the house.
Everything indicated wealth, profusion, and absence of taste. There were
two clocks on the mantel, another on a console, a fourth on a desk. The
furniture was costly, the floor covered with rich rugs, the walls
overloaded with pictures, and three chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
"This is my small summer salon," said Madame Chambertin, modestly. "If I
had known that I was to have the honor of entertaining monsieur le
baron, I would have had my large winter salon thrown open, where three
sets can dance a quadrille without interfering with one another."
"We have more room than we need, madame; and I should be very sorry to
cause you any inconvenience; this salon is perfectly charming;
everything here shows the touch of the goddess of this blest abode."
"Ah! monsieur le baron--to be sure, I did arrange it. My husband wanted
to put another clock in this corner, but he can do without it."
"It would be very difficult not to know what time it is here."
"This is rather a tasty rug, don't you think? I have a still finer one
in my winter salon. You must use them a great deal in Poland, monsieur
le baron?"
"Oh! we have carpets six inches thick in Poland; you sink into them as
you walk, just as you do into a feather-bed. I hope to have the honor of
sending you a specimen."
"Oh! monsieur le baron!"
At that moment, Monsieur Chambertin appeared, with such guests as he had
been able to collect in a hurry, to dine with a great noble at his
table. He had found only four persons at liberty: a former village
notary and his wife, who were just about to sit down to their own
repast, when their neighbor rushed in, greatly excited, and told them of
the acquaintances he had made, and that he was to have the honor of
entertaining at his house the noble foreigner and the professor of
belles-lettres.
At that news, followed by an invitation to dine with the great man,
Monsieur Bidault--such was the ex-notary's name--summoned his maid, and
said:
"Clear the table, Marianne; put the pâté in the sideboard, the chicken
in the pantry, and the fish in the cellar, and keep them all for
to-morrow; we dine with my neighbor."
And Madame Bidault ran to her mirror, crying:
"Quick, Marianne! my gown with orange blossoms, my straw hat, my lace
collerette; I can't appear in négligé before those gentlemen.--Aren't
you going to dress, Monsieur Bidault?"
"Oh! I'll just put on my nut-brown coat, that's all.--Be sure that the
fish is kept where it's cool, Marianne."
"Marianne, do fetch my dress."
Monsieur Chambertin hurried away to seek other guests, urging Monsieur
and Madame Bidault not to be late. Poor Marianne, harried on every side,
did not know which way to turn: she carried the straw hat to the cellar,
and ran to her mistress with the platter of fish in her hand. At last,
after twenty minutes of running hither and thither, the husband and wife
were in condition to appear before the illustrious stranger. Monsieur
Bidault, who had taken to writing poetry since he gave up his office,
looked forward with pleasure to a discussion of the poetic art with the
man of letters; and Madame Bidault, who prided herself upon having more
style than anyone else in the neighborhood, was enchanted to exhibit her
_savoir vivre_ before a grand seigneur.
On leaving the Bidaults, Monsieur Chambertin went to the mayor's; but
the mayor was in the fields overlooking his laborers, and would not
return till evening. Then he hurried to the notary, Bidault's successor;
but the notary was hunting, and his wife was in the midst of making
preserves, which she could not leave.
But the time was getting short, so Chambertin had recourse to an
ex-apothecary of Lyon, who had retired from business and bought a
pleasant little house at Allevard. He was not a very distinguished
individual to place before a palatine; but as there was no time to
choose, he had to be content with what he could get; besides, Monsieur
Fondant talked very little, so he was not likely to say foolish things.
So Chambertin burst in upon him, and, having no time to explain himself
at length, said hurriedly:
"My dear Fondant, I have a noble palatine, from Poland, at my house;
he's going to dine with me; I want you, come! and a man of letters,
who's a Hellenist incognito. Make haste! they are distinguished men of
the first rank; we dine in half an hour."
And he was gone. He thought that he might perhaps get his friend
Frossard, the ironmaster, one of the richest landholders of the
neighborhood. He hurried to his house and found him in the act of
dining; he had already eaten his soup and beef, when Chambertin entered
the dining-room, bathed in perspiration, and called to him from the
doorway:
"Stop, Frossard, stop! not another mouthful!"
"What does this mean?" rejoined the ironmaster, holding his long knife
in the air over a fat chicken he was preparing to carve; "not another
mouthful! I fully expect to have a word to say to the thighs and wings;
I won't leave anything but the carcass."
"Stop, I tell you, my friend! you must come to dine with me."
"Not to-day; it's too late, as you see."
"You must."
"I have eaten a third of my dinner already."
"That won't make any difference."
"I am very much afraid it will."
"I have two noblemen to dine with me, one a literary man."
"What do I care?"
"From Poland--Cracow--a baron--a scholar!"
"Well, what of it? that's no reason why I shouldn't eat my dinner."
"I want you to have the honor of dining with them."
"So long as I have a good dinner, my dear man, it matters little to me
whether I dine with a baron or a miller."
"Come, come, Frossard, my friend, have a little more elevation in your
ideas."
"My chicken is getting cold."
"You shall have some delicious hare _piqué_ at my house; I also have a
certain pâté de foie gras, which has just been sent to me from
Strasbourg."
"Ah! the traitor will succeed in tempting me."
"We will have some of my old pomard, and some of that Saint-Péray you're
so fond of."
"It is impossible to resist you."
"Will you come?"
"Yes; but not for your noblemen and your scholars; I don't know anything
about them. I'll come for the hare and the pomard, which I know all
about."
Monsieur Fondant was the first to arrive; but, being naturally timid,
and more embarrassed than usual at the thought of appearing before two
strangers, whom he supposed to be princes from the few words his
neighbor had let fall, the ex-apothecary remained in the reception-room
adjoining the salon where Madame Chambertin was talking with her guests;
lacking courage to present himself alone, he waited for the other guests
to arrive, so that he might steal in behind them.
Monsieur and Madame Bidault came at last, and so did the corpulent
Frossard. Monsieur Chambertin, who had been giving orders to his cook,
hurried forward to greet his guests. He found Monsieur Fondant in the
reception-room, and, throwing open the door of the salon, presented
Madame Bidault to monsieur le baron. During the exchange of salutations
between the ex-notary and his wife and our two travellers, Frossard, who
did not stand so much on ceremony, pushed Fondant, who seemed inclined
to remain in the reception-room, before him; and Madame Chambertin,
having made her company welcome, disappeared to give a moment's
attention to her toilet.
"Monsieur le baron," said Chambertin, "I have got together a few
friends, who, like myself, are overjoyed to have----"
"Faith! my dear man," said Frossard, dropping into an easy-chair, and
interrupting his host without ceremony, "you came just in time; if I had
put my knife into the chicken, I wouldn't have left it."
"That dear Frossard must have his joke," said Monsieur Bidault, slapping
the ironmaster's leg, while his better half sat very stiffly in a chair
facing Dubourg, who, half reclining on a couch, resembled a sultan
passing his slaves in review; while Ménard, at a little distance,
admired the ironmaster's appearance of robust health and the respectful
bearing of Monsieur Fondant, who had seated himself near a window so as
to be almost hidden by the curtain.
"If I had known earlier that I was to entertain monsieur le baron," said
Chambertin, "I would have arranged a little soirée musicale--a little
party; but I flatter myself that I shall be better prepared another
time."
"You confuse me, Monsieur de Chambertin. Really, I shall not be able to
leave this part of the country; and yet we are expected at the court of
Bulgaria--as you know, Monsieur Ménard."
At these words, Madame Bidault drew herself up and pressed her lips
together; Chambertin glanced at his neighbors with an expression that
said: "What did I tell you?" while Monsieur Fondant disappeared
altogether behind the hangings.
"In truth," continued Dubourg, "I am much pleased with this
neighborhood, and the delightful people I meet here make it even more
attractive."
At that compliment, everybody rose and bowed; a similar manoeuvre was
executed behind the curtains.
"But I thought that I saw Monsieur Fondant," said the ironmaster; "what
in the deuce has become of him?"
"I am here, monsieur," said the ex-apothecary, in a hoarse voice,
showing his face from behind the curtains.
"What are you doing there, a mile away from us all? Come out here,
Monsieur Fondant. What's the news from Lyon? what do you hear there?"
Monsieur Fondant blushed to the ears, for he saw that the strangers were
looking at him. He drew his handkerchief, blew his nose, moved his chair
forward and back, and stammered at last, speaking through his nose to
give himself confidence:
"How hot it is to-day!"
Luckily, Madame Chambertin returned, and her presence gave a different
turn to the conversation. She had put on a thin muslin waist, trimmed
with lace; she wore no hair other than her own, which was not very
becoming, but she had donned her diamond ear-rings and a superb pearl
necklace, which made her very seductive in the eyes of Dubourg, who went
to meet her, and, as he offered her his hand, tenderly squeezed the ends
of her fingers; to which she replied by a half-smile accompanied by a
stifled sigh.
Monsieur Bidault had joined Ménard, whom he judged to be the man of
letters, and repeated divers sentences from the _Perfect Notary_,
accompanied by verses from the _Almanach des Muses_. Ménard, who, in his
endeavor to copy Dubourg, sometimes assumed his self-sufficient tone,
smiled patronizingly at Monsieur Bidault as he replied emphatically:
"_Studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant_;" and Monsieur
Bidault, who had forgotten Cicero when he was learning the Codes,
replied by offering him a pinch of snuff.
Lunel, who had donned a short English jacket, in which he resembled a
Limousin, announced that dinner was served.
Everybody rose; Dubourg offered his hand to Madame Chambertin, Frossard
to Madame Bidault, and the others followed, Monsieur Fondant bringing up
the rear.
They passed into a very handsome dining-room, where a sumptuous feast
was spread. Ménard observed with satisfaction that there were four
_hors-d'oeuvre_, which always indicates a well-arranged dinner.
Monsieur le baron was seated between Madame Bidault and Madame
Chambertin; but his face was generally turned toward the latter, and the
deep flush which from time to time overspread the cheeks of the hostess
might have raised a presumption that her illustrious guest was talking
to her under the table as well.
Ménard was between Messieurs Bidault and Fondant, the former of whom
interlarded his conversation with insipid rhymes, while the other
contented himself with filling his neighbor's glass. Ménard turned
toward the ex-apothecary more frequently than toward the ex-notary.
At the second course, Dubourg, beginning to be convivially inclined, for
he had done full honor to his host's pomard, began to talk recklessly
about his châteaux, his vast estates, Poland and Bretagne; he confounded
the customs of Rennes with those of Cracow, and the products of his
native province with the snowstorms on the Krapach Mountains. But the
company, listening with rapt attention to what he said, simply opened
their eyes and ears the wider. The corpulent Frossard had a fellow
feeling for the baron because he drank his wine without water, and
looked upon Ménard as a scholar of distinction because he discoursed
learnedly upon the method of cooking every dish. Monsieur Bidault was
delighted to have an opportunity of displaying his poetic talent; his
wife considered herself a beauty because Dubourg told her that she had a
look of Mademoiselle de Scudéri. Monsieur Fondant was more at his ease
because nobody paid any attention to him. Monsieur Chambertin was in
ecstasy because he had a nobleman at his table; and Madame Chambertin
rolled her eyes because the aforesaid nobleman frequently touched her
knee with his under the table.
About nine o'clock in the evening, they made an effort to adjourn to the
salon. Everybody had striven to hold his own with monsieur le baron,
some from love of drinking, others for courtesy's sake, so that no one
was quite firm on his legs; the ladies alone were able to stand erect,
for they rarely lose their heads at table.
Amid the Bacchic fumes, Dubourg retained sufficient presence of mind to
realize that they were six leagues from Grenoble, and that it was time
to return thither. Monsieur Chambertin proposed to keep them overnight;
but if they remained, they must do what the others did; Monsieur Bidault
and the ironmaster had already taken a pack of cards, and Dubourg, who
found it difficult to resist the attraction of the gaming-table, felt
that he would cut a very foolish figure with no money in his pocket.
The better plan, therefore, was to go, and come again. Monsieur Frossard
challenged him to a game at backgammon in the near future, and Dubourg,
who considered himself very strong at that game, hoped to recoup a part
of his losses at the hands of the blacklegs at Lyon.
Ménard was so comfortable at Monsieur Chambertin's that he would have
been glad to sleep there, and Madame Chambertin, who may have had some
hidden purpose, tried to detain the young palatine. But he had his
reasons for not yielding; and, seeing that his persuasions were of no
avail, Monsieur Chambertin ordered Lunel to be ready with the cabriolet
to drive monsieur le baron and his friend to Grenoble.
Dubourg took leave of his hosts, promising to return very soon and pass
several days with them. This promise allayed their regret at his
departure.
"Remember, monsieur le baron, that I rely on your word," said Monsieur
Chambertin, with a low bow.
"We shall expect you," added madame, with a glance that said all that
was necessary.
Dubourg replied by placing his foot on her husband's foot, which he
mistook for hers, and cordially shook hands with his host, calling him
his dear friend De Chambertin.
Lunel and the cabriolet were waiting; Dubourg and Ménard took their
seats and started for Grenoble.
The swaying of the carriage soon put Ménard to sleep; and Dubourg,
having no one else to talk to, communed with himself:
"This acquaintance will be very agreeable to me, and will vary the
monotony of our stay at Grenoble. Those excellent people think I am a
nobleman; there's no great harm in that, and it may well be that I have
the air of one. Madame Chambertin still has a vivacious glance; her
husband has excellent wine and an excellent table. That big ironmaster's
as rich as Croesus, and it seems that he likes a little game. Morbleu!
if only I was still cashier! what a chance to repair our losses! I am
sure that he hasn't an idea of backgammon. Such a man as that wouldn't
notice a loss of five or six thousand francs. And Frédéric goes off and
leaves us without a sou; passes his time no one knows where. I simply
must find out what he does every day; I must watch over him, as poor
Ménard here doesn't dare to say a word to him. A fine guardian monsieur
le comte sent with him!"
It was very late when they reached Grenoble. Ménard woke up to alight
from the carriage. When Dubourg saw old Lunel before him, hat in hand,
he instinctively felt in his pockets; but finding nothing in any of
them, he put his hand under Lunel's chin and patted his cheek, saying:
"All right, Lunel; good-night, my fine fellow! I am content with you."
Whereupon the old groom turned on his heel, and muttered all the way
home:
"That was a fine _pourboire_ the Pole gave me!"
XIV
A VISIT TO THE FOREST
When Dubourg and Ménard woke on the morning after their dinner at
Allevard, Frédéric had been gone a long while.
"We will wait till to-night," said Dubourg, "and then we will speak to
him."
"Yes, monsieur le baron," said Ménard; "you will speak to him."
But we have seen that Frédéric remained with Sister Anne very late every
day, until he had decided to remain with her altogether. It was four
leagues from Grenoble to Vizille; the horse Frédéric took in the
morning, at random, went but little better in the evening, although he
had rested all day; for inn horses are rarely good saddle horses. So
that the beast sometimes took three hours to return from Vizille; and
Frédéric did not urge him, for he was not then on his way to Sister
Anne.
So that he returned very late, and Dubourg, after playing piquet with
Ménard,--it was the only game the ex-tutor knew,--had ended by falling
asleep over the cards; for, as neither of them had any money, they could
only play on credit, so that the game never became exciting, although
Ménard had at his service the King of Prussia's snuff-box, and took a
pinch every two or three minutes, to give himself some resemblance to
the great Frederick.
Seeing Dubourg yawn, Ménard suggested that they go to bed; and they
postponed their conversation with Frédéric until the next day. But the
next day also passed without affording them a sight of him.
Several other days passed in the same way. Dubourg's impatience
increased; he was very desirous to return to Allevard, to follow up his
conquest, and to play backgammon with the ironmaster. Monsieur Ménard,
on his side, was no less desirous to drink some more of Monsieur
Chambertin's pomard, and to sit beside Monsieur Fondant, who filled his
glass so handily.
But they could not afford to walk to Allevard; it was essential that
they should make their appearance there in a style befitting the rank
they had assumed; above all things, they must have money in their
pockets, if they wished to cut a figure at the card-table. Ménard was
not convinced of the necessity of that; but as monsieur le baron thought
that it was indispensable, of course he agreed with him.
"So that we absolutely must see Frédéric."
"Parbleu!" said Dubourg; "we'll wait till to-night; and to keep from
going to sleep, we'll drink punch all night, if need be; what do you
say, Monsieur Ménard?"
"I agree with you entirely, monsieur le baron, provided that we have
some cake to go with the punch."
"We will have four cakes; we will play piquet for them, and Frédéric
shall pay the bill."
In the evening, a huge bowl of punch was brought, and a plate laden with
cakes. They began their game, and drank often to avoid falling asleep,
thereby putting themselves to sleep rather earlier than usual. After
they had drunk half a bowl each and eaten six or eight tarts and cakes,
their heads fell forward.
"I am _capot_," said Dubourg.
"Show your hand," added Ménard.
They woke at daybreak, intensely disgusted to have fallen asleep; but,
at all events, Frédéric could not have gone away so early, and they
would find him at last. Dubourg called and shouted, but no one answered.
He went down into the innyard and asked about his friend.
"He didn't come in last night," said the hostler.